


The Late Night Among Us

by strawbwrry_cheesecake



Category: Among Us (Video Game), Late Night Host RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Among Us (Video Game) Setting, Angst, Apparantly I get random boosts of motivation during lectures, But also some fluff yey, Character Deaths, I feel very very bad now, M/M, So much angst, because you see its among us, so i wrote this instead of paying attention, theyre all astronauts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:40:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28437033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawbwrry_cheesecake/pseuds/strawbwrry_cheesecake
Summary: "You spilled the fucking VIRUS on me?!"Within seconds, the knife was grabbed again, one hand shot forward. The scientist tried to scramble towards the door. A knee kicked into his own. A knife was rammed into his back.It was too late.
Relationships: Craig Ferguson/Conan O'Brien, Stephen Colbert/Jon Stewart
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Fyi: My main inspiration for this story was the among us short movie made by the german youtubers Jay & Aria. You can watch it [here](https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=t2jP1AVkItA) ,it's in english and very good quality.
> 
> Apart from that I hope you know what you've gotten yourself into and still enjoy this nightmare of a fanfiction :)

It was well past midnight in the Spaceship. Most lights were out, simulating a day-night-circle for the crew. 

Only two members were still working in the laboratory. One was fiddling around with some samples they took from another planet, running tests and gasping at the results. The other one was fixing wires, mumbling to himself when he couldn't get two to connect.

When he finally managed, he stood straight and slammed the door with a smug grin. 

"Finally! Fucking wires!" He shook his head in disapproval and turned to his companion who still gaped at the test results. 

"What's with you?" 

"I- this... these test, I-" 

"What, you swallow your tongue? See, told you you shouldn't skip dinner." 

The crewmember got a disapproving look from the scientist. He held up his hands. 

"Alright, alright, sorry. What did you find in our little alien-slimes?" The crewmember shuffled in front of the samples, eying them with shiny curiosity. 

"Careful", the scientist murmed. Then he cleared his throat. 

"Tests say the slime hosts some kind of... yes, some kind of virus. Other results show that this virus may have a way to settle into someone's mind and alter their personality." 

"Wow. Like Venom." 

"Like- No? This is not a symbiote! It's barely even a parasite! Its just- just a virus! Be careful!" 

The crewmate drew back his hand and turned his face to the scientist. 

"Chill. Won't do anything." He crocked his head, his eyes narrowed. "Virus... So, like Corona? Good ol' days?" 

The scientist laughed a little at the crewmates tone and corresponding movement. Then he shook his head. "No, no, Corona didn't attack our brain, did it?" 

The crewmembers eyes widened: "So this will make us Zombies?!" 

"No. - Well, maybe. Honestly, I don't know. It does... something. We'd have to test it on living beings." 

The crewmember fixed his gaze on the scientist. He was about to say how cruel science was to use animals as test subjects for things like this, when humans brought it back to earth. But then he saw the way the scientist was slumped in his seat, the way he looked pale and tired. 

He swallowed his comment and slapped the scientists shoulder. 

"C'mon man. You've worked non-stop since we got these. You should rest." 

The scientist smiled up at the crewmate. "Do I look that bad?" 

"Like shit", the other answered, and both chuckled. 

"Okay, then let's go. We're both way in overtime already anyway. I'll just put the samples back." 

The crewmember nodded and turned to lean against the table. He looked at the slime in the test tubes, crooked his head. 

"Does the slime ever remind you of the slime we used to play with as kids." 

"Well... maybe this was what baby aliens used to play with." 

"And because of the virus we couldn't find anything alive on that planet." 

"Because the alien babies killed everyone?" 

"Like the vampire babies in twilight." 

The scientist chuckled. He moved to put the samples back while trying to answer to the ridiculousness of the crewmember. 

"But there would have been one left- AH fuck!" 

In the blink of an eye he let go of the tube, threw it away as if his hand had been burned. 

The crewmember had no time to react properly, it barely took a second for the tube to break on his uniform and the slime to splatter around him, some sticking to the clothes, wet and green and disgusting, some splashing on his neck, face and hands.

"What the fuck Kimmel?!", the crewmember swore and looked down at himself. "Great, I'm a mess! How long do you reckon this will take to clean off?!" 

The scientist took a few steps backwards, taken aback by the anger so unusual for his companion. 

"Easy man, we can deal with this. You just, you-" He wetted his lips, "Just one or two washes, I'm sure, this-" 

"I just got rid of all the fucking dirt and you have the nerve to spill this disgusting slime on me?!" 

"I'm sorry it just, it burned my hand, I don't know- wait- Hey, man, what are you doing with the knife?" A nervous laugh escaped the scientists lips. 

But the crewmember frowned, looked at his hand and indeed, it had a firm grip and a large, shining knife. Shocked, he let go. 

The scientist exhaled sharply. Wide eyes locked on him. The scientist let out another short laugh. 

"For a minute there you had me worried about the virus." 

"You spilled the fucking VIRUS on me?!" 

Within seconds, the knife was grabbed again, one hand shot forward. The scientist tried to scramble towards the door. A knee kicked into his own. A knife was rammed into his back. 

It was too late.


	2. One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should probably mention that I (tried to) use the skeld as orientation. But sometimes I forgot :) 
> 
> Also since they don't have quarters or bedrooms in any map (what's up with that?) I decided they do now (#yey), opposite of med-bay. They all have their separate rooms with bathrooms, not that it's gonna be very important in this chapter
> 
> With that said, enjoy ^^

"So, I was in this weird Vulcan-thingy, and this skeleton was looking at me - I think - with these blue eyes-" 

"And metal mohawk." "- yes, metal mohawk- oi, don't laugh at my dream! - the horse is still dancing and I'm there just trying to figure out why the only thing I'm able to say is 'Tootsie Fruitsie'." 

"Oh god." 

Conan laughed but couldn't help his fondness for the other crewmember. Having breakfast with Craig Ferguson was always a racket. Some mornings he felt like watching a private comedy show. Only after they both had their first coffee, of course. 

"Anyway, then I woke up. I tell you, I was sweating like hell, even tough you know how cold it gets in here at night!" 

Their laughter cut off when the door opened and the white-suited form of their Captain, David Letterman, entered. He had a grim expression on his face, his hands were clenched around an object Conan couldn't make out, his jaw set. 

For a moment Conan wondered if Craig and him would get into trouble for having breakfast this late, but then again the both of them were never up early. 

The second door opened and as usual Conan could hear Stephen Colbert and Jon Stewart long before they set foot into the room. Once they did however, their conversation died down. Everyone could feel the tension radiating off their captain. 

"Boss?", Craig addressed their Captain the way he always did, Letterman having been his superior long before they were with this crew. 

Letterman ignored his question and strolled further into the room. 

"We'll wait for the rest", he simply said. 

It took some crucial minutes until finally, the same door Letterman had entered through opened and Jimmy Fallon and James Corden arrived. 

Both stopped dead in their tracks when they saw the seriousness of their usually comical and chatty group. 

"What happened?", Fallon asked. 

Skepticism spread on his face as he eyed each individually. Conan suspected that, like himself, Fallon wondered if he'd done something wrong, trying to remember what it could have been on a short day like this. 

Finally, Letterman exhalted. 

The group focused back on him, some curious, many confused. 

Where was Kimmel? 

Why did he take so long?

"There has been a murder." 

Silence. 

The statement hit the crew like a bomb. 

Conan could feel air exiting his body but not coming back in. 

A murder on their ship? That would mean... 

"So what, did an alien board without us noticing and is killing us now?", Fallon asked before Conan could finish forming his own suspicions. 

Jon frowned while Stephen shook his head. "No, we just were in admin, there us no foreign presence on this ship." 

No foreign- But that would mean... No-

"Yes", Letterman said. "I could restore the latest information Kimmel saved on his work with the samples." He stopped to take a deep breath, always a sign that he was about to say something very important. 

"The samples we took from the unknown planet." Letterman eyed the crew. Everyone nodded. "Apparently they host some kind of virus. The virus had yet to be studied further, but Kimmel mentioned it being able to attack someone's brain and infest their personality." 

"So, what you're saying is-" 

"Someone in this room killed Kimmel?" 

Everyone inhaled shapely as Stephen and Jon voiced the Captains suspicion. 

Conan couldn't believe them. He wouldn't. Their crew had been together for almost a year now. Sure, they all had their moments, but all in all they were a good fit. Everyone has humor, different kinds, yes, but as long as noone took themselves too seriously, it didn't matter. They always had fun when dining together, when working together, exploring together. And now there was supposed to be a killer? One of their own? No way.

But Letterman gave a sharp nod. 

"Yes. Crew, there is an imposter among us." 

Something in the air changed. The pairs began eyeing the others suspiciously. Eyeing each other.

Conan could see the way Stephen and Jon shifted closer to each other. They knew they were safe with the other one. The two of them had been together for longer than Conan could remember. 

He could see how Fallon and Corden shifted away from each other. They were the newbies. But also the closest to Kimmel, especially Fallon. The two Jimmy's had gotten along the second they fround out they shared a name. 

Conan turned his head to look at Craig. The Scott had gone ashen, as Conan himself would've if his Irish skin could get any paler. He could see Craig's Adam's apple bop when he swallowed. Blue eyes locked with his own and all Conan could feel was the lingering shock in his stomach and the horror of what fate they might have to face. 

Craig's eyes moved away from his to look at their Captain. "How was he... killed?" 

Letterman looked at the pair of them for a second, eyes shifting to the cold scrambled eggs on their plates. Then he lifted his hand. In a plastic bag there was a bloody knife. 

Conan felt like throwing up. 

Jon gasped. 

Someone murmed a low "fuck". 

"It stuck out of his back. Buried deep in his organs. Cut through the spinal cord. Kimmel never stood a chance." 

And he died slowly, Conan added in his mind. 

"When did you find him?", Stephen asked the question Conan was about to form himself. He looked at the man in his pink space suit. 

"Just this morning. I don't know how long he had already been there. Maybe he never went to bed. Maybe he got up early."

"Ferguson is always last to go to bed!", Corden blurted. 

Conan span around to give him a piece of his mind, but Craig came to his own defence first: "Yes, because I always end up fixing all the stuff you people break during the day! Also I was in early yesterday." 

"That's true", Jon said. "When Stephen and I were finished in O2, we saw Craig and Conan go to their rooms." 

"And where have you two been?", Conan addressed Fallon and Cordon. 

"I was in navigation uploading data. Not that I'd need to justify myself", Fallon said and crossed his arms over his yellow suit. 

A defensive move, Conan thought.

"And I was in the cafeteria emptying the garbage before going to bed." 

"Wait Fallon, I felt like I saw you in security on our way back." 

"Yes, he was defenetly in security."

"For a quick scan and check, then I went to nav because I had forgotten the data!" 

"So you checked on security cameras and there was nothing?" 

"No, everything was fine. Kimmel was in laboratory and the rest of you-" Fallon made a weird gesture with his hand before Conan interrupted him: "Wait, speaking of the cameras! Can't we just go through the nights recordings and see if we find something?!" 

Everyone went silent when six pairs of eyes landed on Letterman. The Captain had his arms crossed, leaned back against a table. An annoyed expression crossed his face. 

"No. The cameras have been manipulated. Haven't recorded since... well, 1 in the morning. Had to fix them this morning, before I found Kimmel." 

Conan sighed. Craig was rubbing his temples, Jon and Stephen exchanged a look. 

"Guys, listen. It won't do any good to just accuse each other. We have no evidence for anything, that's the only fact we have." 

"So what, we should just go on with our tasks as if there wasn't a dangerous killer amongst us?!", Jon asked, the fire behind his words betraying all emotions. 

"No!", Letterman shot back, his voice just as troubled, but harsh. He was taking control of his crew the way a Captain had to in emergency situations. Jon took a step back, although his jaw clenched even more. "We can't say who the killer is yet, but we will keep our eyes open. He will make a mistake sooner or later." 

*

Conan and Craig were walking through the hallways. They were silent, a very unusual thing between the two. Usually, when they met between tasks and strolled through the ship, they were loud, obnoxious. The halls were filled with laughter until they arrived at their destination and split up to be at least a little bit productive. 

Today, they walked without purpose. Tasks were to do, as always, but neither of them had the nerves to go and fix insignificant wires. 

After they passed through Cafeteria a second time, Conan couldn't handle the silence anymore. 

"What are you thinking about?", he asked and cursed himself for how awkward he sounded. 

He was awkward, but he never felt that way around Craig. 

The Scot in red stopped and sighed heavily. With the air leaving his body, he slumped against the hallway wall. 

"I... just. I don't know. What everyone is thinking about, I guess." 

Conan stopped as well and looked at Craig. He was pale, bloodshot eyes, he just really looked like he needed a good nights sleep. 

"Are you..."

"Alright?", Craig chuckled humorlessly. "Are you?" 

Conan sighed. "No, of course not. But you know, you look like..." His sentence faded out while Conan debated in his mind whether to say 'tired', 'worn out' or just plainly-

"Like shit?" Yeah, something like that. 

Conan managed a small smile: "Probably not how I would have put it, but yes, you kind of do." 

"Well, you're not exactly looking like Miss Ireland yourself there", Craig said, his cheeky grin betraying the false seriousness in his voice. 

"Right now or just in general?" 

Conan was very pleased with himself when he heard a genuine laugh escape Craig's lips. 

"No man, you know you're always hot. 'S in the color of your hair." 

"Ah yes, of course, orange, the color of all seduction." He brushed a hand through his hear and winked at Craig who answered with a short giggle. 

"Ah yes, Conan the ladykiller." 

Craig winced and Conan felt his throat tighten simultaneously at the word 'killer'. 

The air shifted again. Craig's shoulders slumped, a heavy force seemed to press on their bodies making it hard to breath through the lingering horror. 

"Uh... I think I'll hit the shower... Maybe... yes." 

Without looking at Conan Craig turned to make his way to their quarters. However, before he could walk out of reach Conan made a grab for his arm. He missed it, by inches, grabbed his hand instead. 

It didn't matter to Conan though. He held on tightly, waiting for Craig to turn his face towards the taller, still not looking into his eyes. 

"We'll be fine, Craig", was all he told him. 

Craig looked at their hands for a moment, tightening the hold. 

Then he nodded. "We always have."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, well, well, if that wasn't the beginning of a story... I promise, more action and especially drama is to come :) 
> 
> Also, let me know if you have any suspicions yet and what you think of the story so far!


	3. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not saying this chapter was updated so late because I'm shit at time management and have about a thousand assignments to do but... you see where this is going :) 
> 
> No worries though, the story is as good as finished, so while there might be slow updates from time to time, it will defenetly not end up unfinished and abandoned. 
> 
> Anyways, enjoy :)

Stephen sighed in annoyance when the card reader rejected his card for probably the 10th time. One more and he would just rip the damn thing out of the wall and float it. 

He slid the card through the reader. 

It was rejected. 

"Fuck this!" 

He may or may not have kicked the machine with full force.

"Woah, woah. Stephen, what's up with you?" 

Startled, Stephen whirled around. 

"My god, Conan. Could you not scare me like that?" 

"Right back to you! The loud kick scared the hell out of me!" 

"Yes but you scare easily. Also, I can't get this fucking thing to identify my god damn card!" 

Conan frowned and stepped closer.

"Have you tried slower?" 

"Of course I did! It's either too slow or too fast or probabaly just too perfect. Here, see?!" 

Stephen slid the card through the censor for what felt the 50th time. The reader blinked green. 

Conan tried to stifle his laugh, but he failed miserably.

Stephen just stared at the reader, the card in his hand hanging loosely by his side.

"I swear, this thing..." 

He shook his head and put the card back where it belonged. 

"And what have you been up to?", he asked Conan. 

"Uh, you know... fixing things. Emptying the O2 filter, that kinda stuff." 

Stephen nodded. "Insteresting."

Conan nodded too. "Very." 

They both just stood there for a moment. Heavy silence lay on them until Stephen shook his head and exhaled loudly.

"This is stupid!" 

Conan raised his eyebrows. "What exactly are you referring to?"

Stephen spread his arms. "Everything! This whole situation is just..." He stopped himself, arms dropping back to his sides. His jaw tensed as Stephen could feel the anger creeping up his throat. He took a deep breath, trying to ground himself. 

When he continued, his voice was low and exhausted: "I'm worried out of my mind because Jon isn't with me right now. I'm worried every time I turn my back on the doors or walk through the hallways. We are one crew! We should be able to trust each other by heart! I mean we did... To think that now, the killer is one of us..." 

Stephen closed his eyes, tried to block out the reality that had changed into a nightmare within a single night. 

A hand on his shoulder startled him back. Conan looked at him, obviously going for a smile although the worry was still too evident on his features for the smile to seem genuine. 

"I know how you're feeling-" 

Immediately something in Stephens gut lightened up. 

"Because you're worried about Craig?" 

"What?" 

Stephen actually chuckled at Conans face. 

The blue suited man flushed and stubled over his words, searching for an answer that he didn't have. All the while, Stephen's smile just grew wider and softer. 

He'd known Conan for some time now. Conan had been there when he and Jon had gotten together and had been rooting for the two from the beginning. And since a certain Scotsman had joined their crew, Jon and Stephen had been watching Conan and Craig grow closer and dance around each other as if they hadn't both fallen. Hard.

It was very funny at the beginning, but at this point it had gotten so far Jon and Stephen had actual bets on when one of the two lovestruck idiots would do something. This week was Stephen's and while there was a killing virus lose on their ship, he might as well snatch some money from his boyfriend before they all die. 

"I, I, I- I don't even know what you're talking about. We're not- I-." Conan stopped, sighed. "Am I really that obvious?"

Stephen nodded. "Very." 

"Oh man..." Conan ran a hand through his red hair. "How am I... How did you-" 

Conan cut off abruptly. Stephen looked at him with wide eyes, both of them alert, immediately aware of their surroundings.

"Was that-" 

"A gunshot?" 

A sinking feeling spread in Stephens gut. A thought surfaced, horrifying, drowning everything else out. 

Please, God, don't let it be Jon. 

*

It took the two of them a few moments to locate the source of the gunshot. 

Once they arrived in Security Stephen couldn't help but exhale all the air stuck in his lungs. 

It wasn't Jon. 

This was horrible as well, but at least it wasn't Jon. 

Letterman was already there, crouching down next to the pale body of James Cordon. 

A puddle of blood had formed where the fluid left his head, so much Stephen was certain the man in brown was beyond saving. Their Captain felt for his pulse on both, his wrists and his neck. 

Jon entered the moment Letterman shook his head. In his hands he held a petrol can, gripping it so tight that his knuckles had gone white. 

"Oh God." 

Barely a second passed before Stephen had Jon close to him, hand clutching his cyan suit as if his life depended on it. 

"What happened?" 

Stephen looked up to see Craig in the door. His red suit was knotted around his hips, a red towel fell from around his neck on the damp grey shirt. 

Craigs eyes fell on the body and widened. 

"I heard a- and then I saw you two run- and then Jon- Jesus." 

He came to stand next to Conan, casting a side glance at the blue suited man. 

"Did anyone see anything?", Letterman asked standing up. 

Everyone shook their heads. 

"You were here first, Boss." 

"Yeah, I heard the gunshot, but when I arrived everything was already..." He gestured around. "Like this." 

"The vent too?", Jon pointed out. 

Stephen followed Jon's gaze up to the vent, and, indeed, the vent still hung open. 

"Well... I haven't done it, so apparently." 

"So, our Imposter is traveling through the vents now? Great." 

"What's great?" 

Stephen turned, never letting go of Jon. In the doorway stood Fallon, arms crossed, leaning against the door frame as if there was no suffering in this world. He looked innocent. Stephen frowned. Too innocent. 

"Nothing, it was sarcasm", Craig answered. 

Stephen knew the Scot well enough to hear the suspicion in his voice. So he wasn't the only one. 

"Oh." A small giggle escaped from Fallons throat. One very similar to his nervous giggles when he had messed up a task and didn't know how the others would react. 

"What happened then?" 

Without a word, Stephen pointed to the body behind them. 

The remains of a nervous smile fell from Fallons face. His eyes fixed on the body, almost enchanted. 

Stephen narrowed his eyes, then glanced at Jon. His lover watched Fallon with the same amount of skepticism, brows pushed together and jaw set. When he felt Stephen's eyes on him, he turned his head. 

They looked at each other for a second. Jon raised an eyebrow, asking the silent question. Stephen nodded. 

Something was weird. Something about Fallon's reaction was off. Conan and him had heard the gunshot through half ship, loud and clear like it had been next them, and now Fallon was here, arriving last and acting surprised? As if they hadn't expected it to happen again after Kimmel. 

"What... what happened to him?", Fallon asked. 

"He was shot", Letterman answered. "Obviously." 

"No", again, a nervous giggle, "I mean, uh... has anyone seen anything?" 

Fallon glanced around, still standing in the doorway, but his shoulders were tense, Stephen could see it even through the yellow suit. 

"No." 

It was Conan who answered the question. His tone was low and when Stephen looked at him he saw the way him and Craig had moved closer together, Conan towering behind Craig, the other tense, both ready to lunge and protect the other. 

Stephen couldn't help but notice the resemblance to the way he and Jon were standing. 

Fallon giggled again. Stephens eyes automatically made their way back to the suspect. He seemed to have noticed the way everyone was looking at him, the way his crewmates posture had changed, the way shock had drained from their face and was replaced with either sickness or suspicion. 

"Guys" - giggle - "what's going on?" 

"Where were you?", their Captain placed the question.

"What?" - giggle. 

"Everyone else heard the gunshot, everyone else was here as quickly as they could - where were you?" 

"I was fixing wires. In Admin." 

Stephen felt every muscle in his body tense. Before it was just a suspicion, but now... 

"We were in Admin." His voice was hoarse. He needed water. "Conan and I." 

"Oh... No, my bad", the giggle now almost sounded like a happy hiccup ripping through his words, "I meant security. I always get them mixed up." 

"We literally are in security." 

"Uh, yes, I know, but I went to the cafeteria after the wires, for something to eat." 

"So you were in security?", Letterman asked. 

"Yes", he said, his voice again interrupted by a giggle. "I just said-"

"For fucks sake, would you stop giggling?! This isnt funny! Two people are dead!" 

Stephen had felt the way Jon tensed so much it made him shake for a while and honestly had just been waiting for him to snap. And he agreed wholeheartedly. 

"I'm just-" 

"No! You were here, you said it yourself, you said you didn't hear the gunshot, although everyone heard it! And you won't stop giggling like a fucking lunatic!" 

"Jon..."

The rest of the crew was quiet, the meaning of Jon's words drawing in on them. But Stephen placed a hand on his lovers shoulder, his thumb making slow stocking-movements. He knew how much Jon could get worked up to protect someone who couldn't protect themselves (anymore), he would always step up if someone hurt innocent people. 

It was one of the reasons why Stephen loved Jon, but right now, if Fallon really was the imposter, he didn't want him to get angry at Jon. To hurt him. 

Fallons face had gone slack, then suddenly shock spread across his features. 

"You're not thinking... C'mon guys, that's crazy!"

Fallon held his hands up and took a step back, but the crew followed.

"You heard what Kimmel said about this virus. It affects your brain", Stephen said, more to himself, trying to reason why Fallon, always in a good mood and nice to everyone Fallon, would kill two of their own. 

"Maybe you don't even remember it", Conan suggested. His voice sounded just as uncertain as Stephen felt. But Jon's shoulder tensed beneath his hand. 

"Not remember it! Bullshit, why else would he keep giggling like that?!"

Stephen tightened his grip, fingers practically digging through the cyan suit into Jon's skin. 

"Maybe because you make me fucking nervous?!" 

Fallons voice was several octaves higher than usual, one arm outstretched as if pointing out the surrealism of the situation. 

"Because you keep accusing me for what? Being alone and not exactly knowing where I was since the last meeting?!" 

"Precisely, yes." 

Fallons eyes fixed on their Captain for a moment, his lips pressed together. His jaw was working and Stephen could see he was trying to find a way out of this. 

"I don't know exactly where I was because I am new."

"Everyone could say that", Craig said. 

Fallon shot him a glare but ignored him. "I don't know my way around that well yet, so I just look for tasks on the map and do them. And now you're going to accuse me because of that?" 

"You're the only suspect", Jon said, now it almost sounded apologetic. 

Stephen could see Fallons Adamsapple bop when he swallowed. 

"So... what are you going to do to me then?" 

The question was met with silence. 

The crew exchanged uncertain looks, until Captain Letterman sighed. 

"Well, there is only one option." 

Fallons eyes widened. Stephen tensed. 

"N-No! No, you can't do that!"

"There's no other way..." 

"No, you- you can't even be sure! No!" 

*

"You don't even know if it was me!"

Stephen wished he could tune the noise on his second ear out as well. Just so he didn't have to hear Fallons pleas. He knew it was cowardly but he couldn't help it. 

He tried to focus on Jons body pressing against his instead, but then he would notice the shallow breathing of his partner and knew that Jon was feeling the exact same way. And that was even worse. 

Because Jon usually knew what to do. He usually knew right from wrong, but now he seemed as unsure as everybody else. 

To be fair though, who would know what was the right thing to do in a situation like this? 

And it wasn't as if floating Fallon was an 'a life for a life' thing. No, they genuinely didn't know what else to do. 

Conan had supposed putting Fallon in one room and locking the doors, but there was no room where he couldn't do damage, as Craig had pointed out. Even from his own room, Fallon could use the wires to sabotage light and his own doorlock. 

There had been a long discussion, but the outcome was the same for every argument: As long as the Imposter was alive the crew wouldn't be save. 

So they did the only thing they could think of. Kill the imposter. 

But it was hard to remember that Fallon killed two people when he was hammering on the glass and screaming with that scared, that horrified expression on his face. 

"Please let me out! Please!" His face contorted as tears ran down his cheeks. "I haven't done anything, I swear! I swear to God!" A sob ripped through his throat. "Please!" 

Stephen swallowed. He wanted to look away, but it was like a car accident. He couldn't. 

Jon could, however. He turned away and buried his face in Stephen's shoulder, the shaking in his body telling Stephen he was crying as well. 

"I'm sorry, Jimmy. We have to do this." 

Their Captain was barely audible through the cries of Fallon. He stood next to the glass, his eyes never leaving Fallon. 

Captain till the end, Stephen thought. 

"You'll be fine, Jimmy. You'll be fine." 

"Fine?!" Fallons eyes left the crew and wandered to Letterman. "I'll be dead! Fine?! How about we change fucking places and you go in here?! We'll see how fine you are then!" 

Unconsciously, Stephen took a step back, pulling Jon with him. 

Conan and Craig fell into his field of vision. 

The corners of Conans mouth pulled themselves down, he was holding back tears. Craig covered his mouth with one hand. He looked like he would throw up any minute. 

Stephens eyes went to the countdown next to the door. It was set to 15 seconds. Now it said 3. 

"Get me the fuck out of here!"

2.

"I swear to god, I'll come back as a ghost and haunt all of you!"

1.

"Please! Please! Please!" 

Then the capsule opened and he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh... did I tag this work with angst?   
> Well, now you know what you got yourself into people. Among us isn't just a game for some people °°
> 
> What do you think? Did Fallon really do it? Am I going to write the remaining 3 chapters about spaceidiots in love? Am I considering to expand this to a 7 chapter story because I'm very bad at planning? (As we all know now :)
> 
> Who knows. But I know one thing for sure:  
> Kudos and Comments will be appreciated ^^


	4. Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gentle reminder that I added their quarters, since they arent on the map. They're now on the opposite of med bay, everyone has their own room, so they stretch throughout the whole corridor.

They sat in the cafeteria afterwards. Supposedly for Dinner, but noone ate. Noone could stomach food after what they had done. Even though all evidence pointed towards Fallon, Conan felt a heavy ball of metal forming in his stomach everytime he considered the chance that maybe, just maybe... 

But they had to react. Someone had been running around killing the crew, so they had to do something. Even if now not only the imposter had blood on his hands. 

They sat in silence for half an hour. Then Captain Letterman announced he was going to bed and they all should too. They would need some rest after today. 

Conan couldn't agree more. But on the other side, the thought of sleeping seemed almost utopian. The idea of running through the ship and screaming like a lunatic seemed more suitable, for some reason. 

Craig stayed by his side the whole time, until they arrived at their quarters. 

Letterman barely mumbled a "goodnight" and was gone in his little room. 

Jon and Stephen went straight to Stephens room, never even stopping to consider doing their 'you go to your room and I'll go to mine and you'll come over in the middle of the night and leave in the early morning', like they used to. 

No, this evening it was Conan and Craig who stopped in front of the doors. 

"Well... goodnight then, I guess?", Craig said. 

He was looking up through his eyelashes and Conan could barely restrain himself from liking his lips and dragging Craig into his own room. 

Instead he took a deep breath and went for a: "The thought of sleep seems like the last thing that should be on my mind right now." 

Craig made an understanding noise. 

"It's been one rough day."

"Yeah... God... Three people... Do you ever get doubt?" 

Craig frowned. "Of what?" 

"If... If Fallon..." 

"If Fallon was innocent?" 

Conan nodded.

Craig took a deep breath. "God- I hope not. That... that would mean we just killed an innocent person..." 

"And the real imposter would still be out there..." 

Craig tensed visibly. 

"I- I..." 

Conan didn't think he'd ever seen Craig Ferguson struggle for words. He didn't like it. Not for this reason, at least.

"Hey..." He raised his hand. It hovered in the air for a moment, then actually found its place on Craig's shoulder. "I... I'm sure, we made the right decision." 

Craig nodded a few times, his head coming closer to Conan each time, until it sank down on his chest and stayed there. Before he could even think about it Conan wrapped his arms around the Scot, who hugged him back hesitantly. 

"I hate this", he murmed into Conans blue suit. 

"Me too", Conan answered. 

Craig took a deep breath in and out. He tightened his hold for a moment, before relaxing it. Conan reculantly let go, but not without placing a short kiss on Craig's hair. He just couldn't help himself. 

The little smile on Craig's face told him he hadn't mistaken the others affection towards him. 

"Try to sleep, then", Craig said and looked into Conans eyes. "I'll see you tomorrow." 

"You too."

Conan watched as Craig disappeared in his room. He bit his lip and shook his head. Maybe one day he would be able to go with Craig, like Jon and Stephen did. 

For now, he was just happy they both survived this nightmare and everything would go back to normal now. 

*

Stephen and Jon hadn't spoken a word with each other since Fallon was ejected into space. 

Jon headed straight to the bathroom and when he was done, Stephen went. 

It was only when Stephen came out and saw Jon sitting on his bed, cross legged and with a grim expression on his face, he realized a conversation about this was inevitable. 

"This is stupid." 

"What exactly."

"Everything. We just killed a person for nothing." 

Stephen frowned. 

"He killed two people." 

"That was the virus! It's like... like killing a spider for being a spider! It's not their fault!" 

Stephen sighed. He remembered the spider-discussion the two had had back on earth. But he really couldn't see the connection to this case. 

"The spider didn't kill two people." 

"Neither did Jimmy. We should've tried to find a cure, not kill him." 

Stephen sighed. He didn't want to argue, because Jon was right. But it was done, so what could they do now except hope that Fallon was, in fact, guilty.

"I know, Jon. But Kimmel was our biologist. We wouldn't know how to find a cure if we wanted to." 

Jon huffed. He didn't say anything though, so Stephen assumed they were done with this topic. 

He climbed into his bed and pulled Jon into a lying position with him. They were facing each other and Jon sighed. 

"I'm sorry. I'm just still so... worried." 

"No need to apologize", Stephen said and placed a kiss on the tip of Jon's nose. 

He saw the corner of Jon's mouth twitch and could feel his lips on his own a second later. 

After a few kisses Jon pulled back, only leaning his forehead against Stephens. His eyes were still closed, but Stephen could tell by the wrinkles around them that his mind was still running. 

"It could've been everyone, you know." 

The words were barely audible.

"Infected by the virus. Could've been me. Could've been you..." 

"Oh..." Stephen closed his eyes and cursed himself for not understanding sooner. "So that's the matter?" 

Jon just snuggled closer. Stephen sighed, of course it was. He moved a hand up to Jon's cheek and caressed it with his thumb. "I don't know what I would've done if it was one of us either. But it wasn't, alright? It was Fallon, and as horrible as what happened to him was, it was the right thing to do." 

There was a long silence between them. When Jon spoke again, his voice was strained: "But he had people who loved him, too." 

Stephen could feel a lump form in his throat. He tried to swallow it down, but it just grew bigger. 

"So did Kimmel and Cordon", he whispered. 

Jon sniffed. Stephen wrapped his arms around him and planted a kiss on his forehead. 

A completely different thought crossed his mind. He rolled onto his back and tried not to smile too much. 

"Hey, you know who told me they were into someone today?" 

Jons head perked up. He leaned on Stephen's chest with wide eyes, apparently just as glad for distraction. 

"Now way!"

"Ye-hes!" Stephen couldn't help the chuckle now. "You'll owe me some money by the end of the week, I bet ya!" 

"You bet me? I thought we had a bet running already." 

Stephen wrapped his arms around Jon again and pulled him close. "Conan really thought he was being 'low-key'."

"Bet Ferguson thinks the same."

"Well he's still better than Conan." 

They both laughed a little. 

"To be fair though, to be fair, do you remember us, at the beginning?" 

"Oh God, don't remind me... Remember when we told people we were together? They were so confused because they literally thought we'd been together for years?" 

Jon laughed at the memory. 

"Yeah, I was told the only people who didn't know we were in love were us."

"And we were already touchy and nicknames and everything..."

"We even kissed!" 

"Yeah... Hey, we should do that right now!" 

"Kiss? Hell yeah, baby!"

*

Like he thought, Conan couldn't sleep. His mind was running wild, every position seemed uncomfortable (what did he usually do with his arms when he lay on the side??) and worry was about to eat him from the inside out. 

Worry that Fallon hadn't in fact been the actual imposter, and that the real one now had hours of time to corner everyone alone in their rooms and kill them. 

Since this thought he felt like a child, hiding under the covers on his bed, as if the little amount of fabric would protect him if a killer would decide to end him. A moment there his closet made a weird noise and he half expected the imposter to lunge out of it and stab him. 

Obviously, that didn't happen. 

But then he thought about the vents, and how they all had one in their bathroom, and how he would never hear the screams from Craig's room because it was on the other side of the hallway! 

A memory filled his thoughts: The last time he had heard Craig scream, when the idiot managed to almost electrify himself with some defect wires. He was sure that screams of terror would be different though. 

Alright, no, he had to stop thinking about this! Everything would be fine, Craig would be fine, he would be fine, Stephen and Jon would be fine, Captain Letterman would be fine. Fallon was the killer, he was dead, they would be fine. 

Everyone would be fine, everyone would be fine, everyone would be- 

Ah, fuck this! 

Conan jerked the blanket off of him. Cold surrounded him, crawled into his limbs, but he barely gave it a thought. 

He barely gave anything a thought before he stood in front of Craig's door, fist raised for a knock. Then of course a thousand thoughts decided to drop in and he hesitated. 

Would this be weird? Would Craig even want him there? What if he had actually managed to get some sleep and now Conan would burst in and wake him? 

No. Conan shook his head to get rid of all the annoying doubt. He needed to know Craig was alright and if that would upset the Scot then so be it. His problem. 

He knocked. 

And waited. 

Nothing. 

Maybe he really was asleep. 

He knocked louder. 

Again, no answer. 

Oh God, please just let him be asleep! 

Conan all but hammered at the door, accompanied by a loud: "Craig!" 

When this was still unanswered, he decided to fuck all privacy and just opened the door, eyes flying to towards the bed, it was empty, and fuck, fuck the blanket was rumpled, the pillow barely on the mattress and there was noone in the room, why was there noone in the fucking room-? 

"Conan?" 

"Oh for fucks sake!" 

Craig stood in the bathroom door, the dim light behind him made him look like a ghost. But Conan saw that he was okay. Tired but okay, and oh God Conan had barely ever felt so relieved in his life. 

It took his long legs three steps and he threw himself at Craig, couldn't help it, also couldn't ignore how Craig flinched at the sudden attack before he realized it was just a hug and wrapped his arms around the taller man. 

"Ever heard of privacy?" 

Conan decided not to answer that. Instead he just relished the feeling of Craig in his arms, the fact that he was well, and the soft coconut scent washing off his hair. 

"Did something happen?" 

Conan let go and took a step back. He wanted to give Craig a little of his personal space back, but Craig just followed. 

"No... Nothing. I was just... Worried." 

Now that he heard himself, it sound dumb. Stupid, really. Jesus, Conan would laugh in his own face and was sure Craig would too. But the other just frowned and nodded. 

"Okay..." Then his eyes narrowed. "So, did you burst into everyone's room or..." 

Conan smiled. His hands wandered to Craig's face all by themselves, but Conan didn't mind. 

"No... Just yours." 

Craig slowly raised his own hands and brushed against Conans. 

"You know I can take care of myself, right?" 

"I know", Conan said. His attention however had long focused on Craig's mouth, on these beautiful lips of his. As had his eyes. "Maybe it was me who I was worried about." 

"So you come to me?" 

"You think I was gonna interrupt whatever Jon and Stephen are doing? Or worse, wake up Letterman?" 

"Ah." 

"Well, actually..." They were so close now that Conan could barely even see Craig's lips anymore. So he looked deep into his eyes. "I would've come to you anyways." 

Then Conan closed the last centimeter. 

They bumped against each other first. Craig groaned while Conan suppressed a giggle. The moment seemed gone, but then Craig grabbed the front of his grey shirt and pulled him down. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now if that wasn't some fluff to make up for all the angst in the last chapter... and the one that's about to come >:)


End file.
